The T in talent are pieces of tampered glass Subjugated under capitalism, And meticulously carving out worthlessness on the talented's carcass.
The A stands for all the crumbs of appreciation You collect along your way, feeding your right and just pride Humbled by a dilemmatic correlation of efforts and proudness.
The L is tricky, which maybe the love Or the life that seeps into you through your work, The ingenuity dies as L extinguishes, and you will bear the blame of the consequences.
Once you are done loving, you get greeted with E. The empathetic reign you have grown from flesh and dust Withers and begs for sympathy, waiting patiently for a high class judgement from the unnamed jury.
All the nihilistic N you preached, Comes down to your questioning of moralism, What great have you achieved with your nothingness, compared to someone sewing life with devotion?
The T in talent stands for the time A soul wastes on fixing the tampered glass, But someone like you who knows how to stand up, start with talent tomorrow, a journey from zero regardless.